Unguarded
by RedGrayBall
Summary: Jack is worried about how he seems to be letting his guard down with Sam lately.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Sam and Jack from SG-1 are surely one of the best pairings in ****sci-fi. This story is set at an indeterminate point, with Jack still a Colonel and Sam a Major, but it could happen anytime. As far as I'm concerned, Hammond and Fraiser never die either.**

**I'm back after a long time away, and reviews are much appreciated.**

* * *

_Maybe I just need a vacation_, Jack O'Neill thought. _Some quality fishing at the cabin. Maybe that's all it is._

He was sitting at the briefing room table, and the lighting was low while Daniel was giving a presentation on the artefacts they'd retrieved from their recent mission to P9X-4485. It had been a milk run, and except for the slightly humid weather on the planet it could actually have been like a short vacation in itself.

Jack frowned inwardly, glancing once again at the source of his concern while keeping his expression carefully neutral.

Sam Carter was paying fairly close attention to what Daniel was saying, but she noticed the movement across the table out of the corner of her eye. She looked over and saw that the Colonel was staring at her again. _That's the fifth time in the last half hour_, she noted to herself, feeling the barest heat rise in her cheeks.

Jack held her gaze for a moment and then dropped his eyes to the printed pages Daniel had handed out earlier, pretending to read them. _This is ridiculous_, he thought. _It's definitely getting worse_.

Three weeks ago, his excuse had been the almost-disastrous mission to P5R-970 that had ended in a firefight with at least fifty Jaffa, and a very narrow escape through the Stargate. He was just tired and stressed, he told himself. That was why he'd found his gaze drifting to Carter more often than usual. He was just a little tired. That was all.

Two weeks ago, his excuse had been frustration, after another run-in with Kinsey. One week ago, it was boredom after three days of base downtime following a power surge in the dialling computer. And this week, it was just that he needed a vacation.

Excuse after excuse for why his guard was down, and he was letting his thoughts focus on Carter a little more than… what? More than usual? Certainly. More than expected? Maybe.

_More than I'm supposed to_, he thought, and a small, sad smile appeared on his face as he remembered his own words during the Za'tarc incident. _Damn it_, he thought. _Just… think about something else_.

Sam risked another look across the table and saw that Jack's eyes were now on the archeological report in front of him, but she could tell from his unfocused stare that he wasn't actually reading it. _What's on your mind, Jack_? she wondered, feeling the usual flip-flop of her stomach when she allowed herself to call him Jack instead of Colonel or Sir.

Then she saw his mouth curl into the barest ghost of a forlorn smile, and she had to stop herself from reaching across the table towards his hand. _What's making you unhappy?_ She vowed she would at least try to find out, not that it would be easy. He was one of the most emotionally guarded people she'd ever known.

Jack was suddenly aware of her eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to meet her own. Her eyes were a much darker blue than usual in the dim light, and her hair shone in the reflected glow of the large computer display Daniel was still gesturing at as he spoke. She didn't look away, and he could see the concern on her face. _Busted_, he thought, irritated at himself, and now worried even more about his recent tendency to let his defences slip when he was around her.

Sam gave him a small smile, but he only blinked in return, holding her gaze for a long moment before looking away.

At the other end of the table, General Hammond barely had to shuttle his eyes back and forth to watch the unspoken interplay between his two most trusted officers.

_"There's a storm brewing, George,"_ his own father used to say on their ranch in Texas when ominous grey clouds would begin to gather on the horizon, and he could almost hear his long-dead father's voice again here now. Hammond's brow creased briefly in a frown. _One of these days, Jack, you're going to actually do something about all this_, he thought.

What a day that would be. It would be a headache the size of Cheyenne Mountain, but Hammond couldn't quite bring himself to dread it. A part of him wished it would just hurry up and happen, come what may. God knows they'd both done enough for this country - and this planet.

Hammond frowned once again, and for the hundredth time he decided to simply say nothing and hope for the best.

* * *

"Thank you, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond said with his usual tight but sincere smile as Daniel finished his presentation and returned the lighting to normal. Hammond turned his attention to Jack. "If there's nothing else, I'll expect your final mission report by the end of the day, Colonel. SG-1 is on stand-down until our 10:00 hours briefing on Tuesday. Enjoy your long weekend."

"Thank you, sir," Jack replied. "I've been _itching_ to write that report all day." Sam grinned in amusement, but kept her eyes focused firmly on the table surface.

"I'm glad to hear that, Colonel," Hammond replied, refusing to acknowledge the sarcasm, before turning and striding into his office.

"I guess you guys are off the hook," Jack said with a sigh, drawing a somewhat self-satisfied nod from Teal'c. "Good briefing there, Danny. Rocks. You know I love 'em. You just make the subject come alive, somehow."

Daniel gave him a typical look of exasperation, but it was one that said he didn't really mind the teasing. "I'll try to make my future presentations a little longer for you, then, Jack," he replied dryly, gathering his papers and coffee mug and heading for the door. Teal'c followed behind him after his customary bow, leaving Jack and Sam alone.

Jack pushed back his chair and stood up slowly before glancing over at his 2IC. Sam was looking at him with a barely-concealed grin, her eyes sparkling.

_Wow_, Jack thought, feeling his heart speed up as he involuntarily returned the grin. _See, this is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about_, he thought. _Danger, Will Robinson_.

"You really shouldn't tease Daniel, sir," Sam said, though her tone of voice and body language said something more like _I love it when you do that_.

Jack shrugged, secretly delighted as always that his antics seemed to amuse her. "He makes it too easy," he said. "The guy _really_ needs a life outside this place. But I guess you could say the same for me."

Sam's smile faltered and she glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes again. They were dark and liquid, full of things she couldn't quite decipher. "Well… this job does make a lot of demands on us," she said, immediately wincing inwardly at how noncommittal it had sounded. That fact was that she agreed with him, but she had no idea how to say that without it sounding inappropriate - or like an insult.

Jack simply nodded, still not breaking eye-contact. After a moment, he shrugged. "I should write that report," he said, and Sam nodded. Jack turned to walk away, and he was almost at the door when she called after him.

"See you at lunch, sir?"

"Yep; thirteen-hundred," he replied, without looking back, and continued out the door.

_Damn_, she thought. _That didn't go so well. What's bothering him?_ She wandered out the opposite door and made her way to her lab, replaying the events of the briefing in her mind.

He'd been like this for a few weeks now, she realised, and it was becoming more noticeable. She'd catch him looking at her, or sometimes even staring off into space, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't the usual Jack O'Neill behaviour at all - he normally buzzed with energy, forever fiddling with something or deliberately annoying somebody. He wasn't introspective, as a rule.

She managed to work for almost two hours before sighing and pushing the keyboard away. "For crying out loud," she muttered without even being aware of it, swivelling around on her stool to glance at the clock on the wall, which said it was 12:41. _Close enough_, she thought, then locked her computer and left the lab.

Jack was sitting in his office, spinning a pen on the scarred wooden surface. Despite what he'd said to Hammond, he'd actually finished the mission report that morning before the briefing, and had submitted it electronically a short while after he'd last spoken to Sam. For the last ninety minutes or so, he'd alternated between pacing the small room, throwing crumpled balls of paper into the open wastebasket he'd moved to the far corner, and now spinning a pen.

_A life outside this place_, he thought to himself. That was a pretty interesting remark, when you thought about it. He hadn't known he was going to say it until he heard the words coming out of his own mouth, which was also a little worrying.

"Gonna have to do something about this," he muttered to himself, spinning the pen even faster and watching it skitter across the surface and fall to the floor, rolling under the desk and out of sight. He sighed, but made no effort to retrieve it, instead taking another pen from the chipped ceramic mug beside his computer. The mug was emblazoned with "Walk Like An Egyptian" and various hieroglyphs. He'd bought it as a gag gift for Daniel a few years ago, but had liked it so much he decided to keep it for himself.

Getting a life outside this place would be easy enough. God knows he always got enough female attention at O'Malley's or any other bar he wandered into. No problem. But there was a snag. _Just getting any old life isn't enough_, he thought, then groaned.

He was startled by a knock at the door, and waited for several seconds until another knock came. "Nobody's home," he called, and the door swung open to reveal Major Samantha Carter. She gave him a small smile, and he just blinked in momentary confusion.

"Lunchtime already?" he asked, glancing at his wristwatch to see it was indeed nearly - but not quite - 13:00 hours. "You must be hungry today, Carter."

She shrugged, then nodded towards the computer on his desk. "Have you even started that mission report, sir?" she asked in a gently teasing tone, and he gave her a look as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant.

"Solitaire is a hell of a drug," he said by way of response, and she rolled her eyes. After a moment, she took another couple of steps towards his desk, looking away for a moment before speaking in a quieter voice. "Is everything… ok with you, sir? You seem a little distracted lately."

_You could say that_, he thought, carefully keeping his expression neutral. It was time to pull himself together and stop this. _I'll just tell her I need a vacation_, he thought.

"You ever wonder if you made the right choices in life, Carter?" he said, again surprising himself completely. _Goddamnit!_

Sam blinked twice, taken aback at the question. "I… uh, well… I sometimes wonder about.. I suppose, well, what sort of choices?" she said awkwardly, feeling her cheeks flush. Jack smiled slightly, which simultaneously embarrassed and pleased her. She took a deep breath and spoke again with more forethought. "Do you mean 'you' as in me, or 'you' as in _you_, sir?"

Jack immediately put on his exaggerated look of fake confusion, which he used when he wanted to avoid further discussion on a topic. He shrugged, and heard her sigh sharply.

_Oh no you don't_, she thought. _There's something going on with you, and I'm going to find out what it is_. She leaned against the side of his desk, and gave another small smile. "What choices are you wondering about?" she said.

Now it was Jack who looked away, letting his gaze rest on the surface of the desk. _That's a good question_, he thought. _Joining the SGC? Good choice. Leaving things in the room? Not so good choice. Having this conversation? Terrible choice._

"Never mind," he said, with a shake of his head. "I'm just… I probably just need a vacation." He put his palms flat against the desk surface and stretched his neck to get the kinks out.

Sam inwardly groaned in frustration. _He has regrets about his life and he _almost_ started to talk, but now he's clamming up as usual._ She thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and then gently placed her hand on top of his.

Jack's eyes immediately locked onto her slender fingers resting on the back of his hand. He felt the warmth of her palm over his knuckles, and his pulse accelerated. After a long moment, he slowly raised his head and met her gaze. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright, but she didn't look away.

"You can talk to me, you know," she said softly, giving him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. His hand twitched slightly under hers, and she saw his focus flick momentarily to her lips before he made eye contact again. Her own pulse quickened, and she was suddenly very aware of how close he was.

"Talking definitely isn't the problem right now," he replied cryptically, in a quiet voice.

Sam tilted her head slightly, not understanding what he meant. She searched his eyes for any clues, but after a moment he surprised her by standing up. There was now less than an arm's length between them, and she automatically lifted her hand away from his, seeing him glance downwards again to where his own hand was still flat on the desk. She saw the momentary look of disappointment cross his face and then vanish.

_I wish you wouldn't push me away, Jack_, she thought. _You don't have to handle everything on your own_.

"Let's get some lunch," he said, glancing back up at her with a softer expression that had a hint of both gratitude and apology as he stepped from behind the desk.

"Sure," Sam replied with a nod. He gestured for her to go first, so she turned towards the door.

Jack began to lift his arm from his side without even thinking about it. _Bad idea_, he told himself. _Really bad idea_. That was true, but he still didn't let his hand drop.

As Sam took her first step towards the door, she felt his palm settle on the small of her back. She gasped silently, but willed herself to simply keep walking.

Jack felt her tense for a fraction of a second, then her pace slowed imperceptibly, letting his palm make full contact. He followed just behind her, guiding her to the door, and his hand didn't fall away until they were halfway down the corridor outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: We have quite a way to go. I was always impressed by the depth of emotion, and the amount of conversation, that Jack and Sam could convey just by looking at each other. I often wondered what they each thought about that. Their relationship as spoken by their looks at each other was always much further ahead than that of their words. I wanted to explore that idea in this scene, but we're just getting started.**

**Please do let me know how I'm doing. Reviews are a huge encouragement to keep writing.**

* * *

Daniel looked up from his lasagne for the fourth time, carefully examining Sam's face. She was sitting diagonally opposite him at their table in the commissary, with Teal'c beside her. Jack was sitting beside Daniel, directly across from Sam, methodically eating pasta. Both of the USAF officers were unusually quiet.

_I wonder if Jack has pissed her off_, Daniel thought. Sam's face was carefully neutral, and that was at least a good sign. She had a certain look she used when she was angry - her eyes tended to narrow and flick around a lot - so he was fairly sure she wasn't upset with Jack.

Sam chose that moment to glance across at her CO, not noticing Daniel's attention. The archeologist saw Sam's eyes roam over Jack's face, then move down to his unoccupied hand that was sitting flat on the table, and her cheeks coloured as she quickly looked back down at her plate.

_Oh for… crying out loud, I suppose,_ Daniel thought, rolling his eyes. He risked a peek to his side at Jack, but the older man was lost in thought as he ate mechanically. Jack was certainly a bit preoccupied lately, and Daniel knew that Sam had picked up on it too. But what was the blushing all about?

_You two are incredibly annoying_, he thought sadly. _Just do something about it already_. With a small sigh, he turned his attention to Teal'c.

Sam picked at her food, barely glancing up when Daniel pointedly asked Teal'c how Rya'c had been doing lately. Her mind was completely occupied by Jack's strange mood, and the encounter in his office half an hour earlier. She could still feel the warmth of his palm on her lower back, even though she knew it was her imagination. He has asked her if she ever wondered whether she'd made the right choices in life, but he was clearly talking about himself.

_Then we broke the rule_, she thought.

They'd had an unspoken rule that they didn't touch each other at the SGC. Jack would clap Teal'c on the back, or push Daniel's glasses back up his nose, but he'd almost never touch her. She, in turn, would jab Daniel in the ribs when he was teasing her, or put a sisterly hand on Teal'c's arm from time to time, but she would almost never touch Jack. There were unresolved, suppressed feelings between them, and it just didn't feel safe. So they automatically held themselves back just a tiny bit more with each other than they did with the rest of their teammates. There had been exceptions, when off-world and in peril, or celebrating just being alive, but generally they both displayed extreme restraint by default.

_I was the first one to break it_, she realised. She'd put her hand over his, in his office, telling him that he could always talk to her. He had given her a complex look and said something cryptic about talking not being the problem, but she had felt the electricity in the air. He was normally so controlled, and so disciplined. His eyes said a lot, but he held himself in check no matter where he was. _And that's what's so unusual_, she realised. _The wall has come down a little._

Then she had felt his hand on her back, and had been stunned when it hadn't fallen away as they left his office. The corridor had been empty, but anyone could have appeared at any moment. After they'd gone ten feet or so his hand had indeed fallen away, but he'd kept pace afterwards, walking right beside her, only taking a step back to a respectable distance when they reached the elevator.

She risked another look across at Jack and saw that he was listening to Teal'c describe how proud Bra'tac was of Rya'c proficiency with a staff weapon. His fork was poised halfway to his mouth, and suddenly a flash of sadness crossed his face. He lowered the fork to his plate. An instant later, his eyes met hers.

Jack was paying more attention to what Teal'c was saying than he seemed to. He enjoyed hearing about Rya'c, but mostly because of the obvious pride in Teal'c's voice. A father's pride in his son.

_Charlie_.

Images flew through his mind, and for the thousandth time he wondered what his son's future would have held, if he was still alive. The Air Force, after his father? Or maybe something else. He could have been an academic, or a doctor, or a lawyer. Or a rock star, even. But he would be none of those things, because he was gone. He pushed the old, bitter, familiar sense of helpless loss and self-loathing down, then instinctively sought out Sam's face. She was already looking at him.

_You're thinking about Charlie_, she abruptly realised, and felt her heart go out to him. Teal'c was proud of his own son, and now Jack was feeling loss. But she could also see that Jack was happy for their friend, and would never want to discourage him from sharing his pride. _So you'll just sit and listen, every time, no matter how much it hurts_, she thought. Sam could feel the sting of tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes, but she kept looking at Jack, willing him to understand that she knew, and she cared, and she'd take the pain from him if she could.

Jack watched the thoughts dart across Sam's eyes like flecks of light. He saw the moment that she understood, and he saw the pain she felt on his behalf, and he suddenly knew that it was only by a supreme effort of will that she wasn't actually reaching across the table to him. _Because she knows me_, he thought. _Better than I know myself, sometimes. All of it - and somehow... she's OK with it._

And then, quietly and without fanfare or preamble, something changed in Jack's mind. A bolt that had been slowly working itself free finally sprang open, perhaps, or a wall that had been beaten and eroded, for year after year, finally toppled. For a moment, still staring into her eyes, the background noise of the commissary and even Teal'c and Daniel's conversation faded into nothing, leaving only the half-imagined high-pitched whine of perfect silence.

In his mind, he saw his future stretch out ahead of him. Twenty or thirty or forty years - it was possible; O'Neills lived to a ripe old age, and that was without god-knows-what alien technology or medical knowledge the Stargate might bring to them - like a second life after this one. He saw his friends grow older and eventually _old_, and saw his circumstances and surroundings change.

He saw Cassie as a grown woman, marrying and having children of her own. He saw his cabin at the lake, as if he was sitting on the pier even now, with the sun shining on the blue water. Flecks of light dancing over the rippling surface. He saw himself alone there, old beyond any more chances, retired and counting down his remaining days. Regulations upheld, even though a thousand worlds owed him - owed _all_ of them - and the only cost was that he had to give up any chance at the life he had wanted for quite some time now.

He blinked, and the sunlit waters of the lake became Sam's eyes once again. The noise of the commissary abruptly came back up to full volume. He was back here again, in the present, and she was still looking at him. Everything the same, but on a knife-edge, between two destinies. Just the simplest choice, in a single moment, and the universe branches off in a new direction.

His fingers twitched, and she noticed it. With something like actual panic he realised he'd been about to reach across the table and take her hand, right there in front of everyone. The crazy thing was, he was actually still considering it.

_More than I'm supposed to_, he thought, and then the final piece fell into place. Like all profound truths, the eventual realisation brought not enlightenment, but only embarrassment at not having understood before.

_There's nothing wrong with me_, he thought. _It's the rules that are wrong_.

Daniel stopped in mid-sentence at the sudden loud scrape of Jack's chair being pushed back, and the archaeologist craned his neck to look up at the Colonel who was now standing beside their table.

"I'm... not hungry," Jack said. "I'm gonna finish my report." Before anyone could reply, he turned and walked briskly out of the room, leaving the three other members of SG-1 in momentary silence.

"Was it something I said?" Daniel eventually asked, clearly joking but also puzzled. He looked over at Sam, but she was only staring at the door Jack had just gone through.

She managed to sit still for almost half a minute before getting up without a word and hurrying out after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Your reviews make the effort worthwhile - please keep telling me how I'm doing.**

**I'm letting the story guide me regarding pace. It's taking Jack and Sam longer to open up to each other than I thought it would.**

* * *

Sam went straight from the commissary to Jack's office. The door was ajar, just as they'd left it, and the room was unoccupied. She frowned. _Where would he go to hide out?_

She pondered the question for almost a minute before deciding to check the gym - he went there often anyway, particularly when he wanted to work out his frustration with something. There were several officers in the gym, but Jack wasn't among them. Her next stop was the SGC locker room, but the only people there were the two female members of SG-9.

The elevator was delayed when she next got to it, and when the doors finally opened to admit her, she decided to just return to her lab and wait for a while. _If you don't want to be found right now, fine_, she thought.

He could be incredibly trying at times, but she found it difficult to actually be annoyed, because she knew that he was hurting. She wasn't sure it was just about Charlie, but that was more than enough on its own. She sighed deeply, pushing her hair behind her ear automatically. _I just want to show you that you're not alone, Jack_.

The real question was how, exactly, she would do that. He shut down those conversations before they even had a chance to begin. She had never even asked about his experiences in Iraq, and they'd never really _properly_ talked about Charlie, and then there were any number of more recent traumas too. He kept it all inside, simmering away, and wouldn't allow anyone to share the burden or even to feel sorry for him. His barriers were almost fossilised.

_But not anymore_, her mind suggested. That was true. Something had changed, clearly. His shield was crumbling; cracks spiralling in from the edges. But why? And what did it mean?

"Damn it, Jack," she said aloud to her empty lab. _Whatever's going on, let me be there for you. I'm your 2IC, I'm your friend. And I lo-_

But that wasn't acceptable, not even as an unspoken thought. It was locked away, in a room on this base that was really two rooms: one in his heart, and one in hers. They had agreed to keep their deepest feelings for each other behind the doors of those rooms, for the sake of their careers and the importance of their work. It made her ache every single time she saw him, but she also knew it was the only reasonable thing to do.

_And we can avoid the questions_, she thought. Not the questions of other people, but the questions they would have to ask each other, and themselves.

_Will you let me in? Is it really me that you want?_

_Am I too old for you? Can you ever forgive me for what happened to my son?_

_Will you ever want children again? Do you still think of Sara?_

_Is this forever?_

She felt tears sting her eyes. She desperately wanted to ask him some of those questions, and she also dreaded his answers. Most of all, she wanted to be able to surrender and just be with him, even if it was only for the briefest time before the answers shattered both of them. And _that_ was why they really left it in the room. The regulations were a great reason, but they were also just an excuse. The _real_ reason was fear - fear of taking something that seemed like it would be perfect, and maybe finding out that it wasn't.

It was so much easier to just press Pause, close the door of the room, lock it, and walk away. It was the safest choice. A choice to hide. A choice to pretend, every day. A choice to always hope, with the cost of never finding out.

_You ever wonder if you made the right choices in life, Carter?_ he whispered in her mind, and she shivered.

"Every day," she replied, her voice catching, but there was no-one else there to hear it.

* * *

When Sam next looked up from her computer, more than an hour had passed. She stretched, hearing her elbows click, and thought again of Jack. Maybe he'd be more ready to talk now.

She was almost surprised that Daniel hadn't dropped by her lab to check everything was alright after her abrupt exit from the commissary, but she knew why he hadn't: where Jack and her were concerned, Daniel had eventually learned to stay out of it. He meant well, and genuinely wanted them to admit their feelings for each other and find happiness together, but his efforts always ended up with him being infuriated and both Jack and Sam being either embarrassed, or angry with him. It wasn't surprising he had learned his lesson - for now, at least.

Sam locked her computer, and was about to leave the lab when something made her reach for the phone. She was connected with the SGC switchboard immediately, and asked to be put through to the topside security office. After a moment, the duty officer picked up.

"This is Major Carter," she said. "Can you tell me if Colonel O'Neill has left the base yet?"

"Of course, ma'am, one moment," the voice replied, and she heard a brief burst of typing in the background before the young man spoke again. "Yes, ma'am, Colonel O'Neill signed out just over an hour ago. Would you like me to have him paged?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Thank you," she replied, feeling her heart sink, and she hung up. He had obviously gone straight from the commissary to his locker, and then left the base. It was a Thursday afternoon, and none of SG-1 were needed back at the mountain until Tuesday morning, four and a half days from now.

She massaged her temples, feeling a headache forming. _If you think you're going to hide away until then, you're wrong._ She sighed. She had nothing urgent to finish today, and Hammond had already put them on downtime. A long bath sounded good right now, and it would give her a chance to decide how to approach him later.

Sam stood up from her desk, left her lab and headed for the locker room.

* * *

When Jack made his quick exit from the commissary, his first thought was to go to the gym, but on the way there he realised that Sam probably wouldn't be far behind. He abruptly changed course towards his locker, changed into his civilian clothes, and left the base.

He had half-expected his cellphone to ring during the short drive back to his house in the Springs, but it hadn't. _Probably for the best_, he thought, especially since he was so irritated with himself. Irritated about running out, irritated about not being able to talk to Sam, and irritated that nothing had meaningfully changed. Most of all, he felt stuck.

_So the rules are wrong_, he thought._ Congratulations, genius. But what can I actually do about it?_ The answer was clearly "nothing". Finally telling Sam - properly - how he felt about her would only make him feel better for about five minutes, until they both realised that they couldn't act on those feelings - and that was assuming that she still felt the same way.

Hammond wouldn't exactly turn a blind eye if he found out that the two Air Force officers of SG-1 were involved in... what? A relationship? That was just wishful thinking. No matter what the General personally thought, there were regulations to be considered, and the fact that an unsanctioned personal relationship could make the SGC vulnerable to influence from unwelcome outside parties. _Like that son-of-a-snake Kinsey_.

He slammed his fist down angrily on the steering wheel, making the truck swerve slightly before he corrected it. "The hell with this," he muttered, impulsively pulling into the parking lot of a diner. His stomach was starting to growl again after his abandoned lunch, and he could never think clearly when he was hungry.

_Might as well deal with a problem I can solve_.

* * *

Sam closed her eyes, sliding further down amongst the glistening foamy water in her tub. The scent of lavender filled her bathroom, and she felt her headache rapidly slipping away.

_What are you thinking right now, Jack?_ she wondered, trying to picture him. He'd be frowning, definitely. Sitting alone somewhere, maybe in his house or a bar. He had been thinking about Charlie earlier, but that wasn't how all this had started. Her eyes suddenly blinked open and she felt a sliver of ice in her stomach as a thought occurred to her.

_Has he gone to see his ex-wife?_

A crease appeared on her forehead as she considered the possibility. As far as she knew, Jack almost never spoke to Sara. Sam knew that he felt guilty not just about Charlie but also about how his marriage broke down, but she truly believed that he was over that relationship now. If he was still dwelling on thoughts about Charlie, he was more likely to get drunk than to seek out his ex-wife.

_Probably not gone to see Sara_, she decided, and the tension in her shoulders eased a little. She had conflicted feelings about Sara O'Neill. She knew that the other woman was a huge part of Jack's past, and that they had brought a son into the world together. Jack would probably always love Sara for that reason, but Sam was sure he was no longer _in love_ with her.

_But Sara kept his name_, she thought, and then she felt a stab of jealousy. It was one thing to watch women like Anise make eyes at him, but Sara had actually been his wife. For the hundredth time, she wondered what Jack was like when he let his defences down completely. Had he looked into Sara's eyes and told her she was beautiful? Had he stroked her hair and pressed soft kisses to her forehead as they lay together, their hearts beating quickly and in perfect time with each other? Had he told her that he loved her? Of course he had. They were married, after all.

She felt tears slip down her cheeks, and then a burst of anger at herself. _You've had past relationships too_, she thought bitterly. _Everyone has. What does it matter?_

She exhaled raggedly and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Sara was a part of Jack's past, and that would always be true. Her own insecurity about that woman was something that ultimately only Jack could banish, if he wanted to.

_I just wish I'd seen the side of you that she knew_, she thought, and then slapped the surface of the water in frustration with herself. "OK, that's not helping me relax," she muttered, deliberately slowing her breathing.

_I don't even care where you are right now, Jack,_ she thought determinedly. _I'm going to come and see you later and we're going to talk. You're going to tell me what's going on with you even if I have to Zat you._

She grinned at last. It was Jack himself who had started using _Zat_ as a verb, and it had immediately caught on, just like all the nicknames and abbreviations he made up. Half the time he deliberately got names wrong, and the other half he invented new ones that ended up becoming part of their shared vocabulary.

It was Jack who started calling Daniel _Danny_, and Teal'c _T_ (or _Murray_, which was somehow hilariously perfect for their huge Jaffa friend). Apophis was _Pops_, and the Goa'uld in generally were _snake-heads_. Archeological artefacts were _rocks_, and any piece of alien technology in her own lab was a _doohickey_. He even called her own father _Dad_.

_And sometimes I'm Sam_, she thought, feeling warmth chase through her. He occasionally referred to her by rank, but she was almost always simply _Carter_. Once in a while, though, when it was Jack who was speaking to her instead of Colonel O'Neill, he would call her Sam. Never Samantha. Sam.

_If I took you up on your offer to go fishing, we'd go to your cabin and you'd call me Sam_, she thought, and suddenly she missed him terribly.

"Why can't this be easy?" she groaned aloud, then slid entirely below the bubbles.

* * *

It was already fully dark by 19:30, and an unseasonably mild night. Jack was perched on the small three-legged stool he kept on his roof, peering through his telescope. He was looking at the constellation of Cassiopeia, which formed a distinctive sloping "W" shape in the night sky. He was focused specifically on Alpha Cassiopeiae at the moment, the brightest star in the constellation, and he regulated his breathing as he looked through the eyepiece.

_Two hundred and twenty-nine light years away_, he thought. _Just around the corner._

He concealed his knowledge of astronomy (amongst other things) from his friends and colleagues, and instead played dumb. It was safer that way, particularly for him. It gave him a chance to observe and understand people, because everyone tended to loosen up around someone they assumed was less intelligent or educated than themselves. Basic psychology; another of his interests, besides the stars and The Simpsons. It gave him an advantage. And it kept people away.

He sat back from the telescope and rubbed his eyes. The bottle of beer sitting nearby was his first of the evening, and was still almost full. He hadn't eaten since the diner, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to bother. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out his cellphone, but he had no messages or missed calls. He frowned briefly, then put the phone back in his pocket.

_Lucky break, O'Neill,_ he thought. _You'd just say something you'd regret._

He reached for the bottle and took a swig of beer, setting it back down beside the base of the telescope just seconds before he heard a car brake slowly to a halt nearby, the engine dying a moment later. Years of training had made him long ago catalogue and recognise the sound of each of the vehicles his friends owned, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the car was Sam's vintage Volvo.

_For crying out loud_, he thought, feeling his pulse quicken as he heard a car door open and then close.

* * *

Sam had absolutely refused to call or text Jack during that afternoon, despite finding her cellphone had appeared in her hand several times. She had spent half an hour obsessing over the idea that he might have decided to hide himself away in his cabin in Minnesota, but had eventually decided that she would go to his house here in the Springs as planned, without calling ahead. If he was gone, he was gone - she would deal with that situation if it came up.

She had refused to let her increasing nervousness about confronting Jack affect her appetite, but had barely touched her meagre dinner, hurriedly prepared when she realised it was almost 18:00 hours. She had then refused to spend any time worrying about what to wear, and had deliberately thrown on the first decent pair of jeans she pulled out of the closet.

It was more than forty minutes later when she realised that her bed was now completely covered in tops, sweaters, cardigans and blouses, and she grudgingly admitted that, perhaps, she was overthinking this.

_Just pick one_, she told herself, and grabbed a pale blue cashmere v-neck. She put it on, glanced in the mirror, pulled it off again, threw it to the floor, and tried a chunky red fitted turtleneck instead. Another glance in the mirror, and a minute or so later, she was once again wearing the pale blue v-neck, rescued from the floor.

"You're fine," she said to the wide-eyed woman in the mirror, who didn't seem entirely convinced but nodded anyway.

The drive to Jack's house took just over 12 minutes, and seemed like about an hour. Sam tapped her fingers nervously on the steering wheel, and twice glanced at her cellphone even though she couldn't imagine him calling her right now.

When she was finally approaching his house, part of her wanted to drive right past, but knew it was futile. _If he's there, he'll only recognise the sound of the car going by anyway_, she thought. She took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and pulled to a stop.

_Get out of the car now, or you never will_, her mind said, and she thought that it was probably right. She got out and locked the Volvo, looking up at his house with trepidation. Most of the windows were dark, with the only light being the small lamp he kept in the front hallway, visible through the pane of frosted glass in the door. _Maybe he really is on his way to the cabin_, she thought, and her stomach clenched.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered to herself, and walked towards the house.

Jack saw her. She had come into view around the edge of the roof after she'd stepped away from her car, and he could see her perfectly, illuminated by the moon and the lone streetlamp nearby. She was softer somehow, out of uniform. Still unmistakably Carter, but not so much Major. Still a soldier, but now allowing herself to be a woman first. She was clearly nervous, but somehow still effortlessly graceful.

_This isn't going to end well_, his mind suggested, but what was he going to do? Hide on the roof until she left?

Sam was still fifteen feet or so from his porch when she sensed his gaze on her. She had always known when he was looking at her, somehow. Her eyes quickly scanned the windows facing her, but no-one was visible. Then something - maybe a sound, or maybe just an instinct - made her look up.

Jack's face was clearly visible, looking down at her. His silver hair shone unnaturally brightly in the moonlight, and she felt her pulse quicken once again. She could just see the edge of his telescope too, and for the first time she noticed what a clear night it was, with the enormous vault of stars visible above them. There was silence for a long moment before she spoke.

"Hi," she said, slightly shyly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other but refusing to break eye contact.

There was another long moment of silence as his eyes swept over her, moving from her face downwards, and then back up towards her hair, and finally meeting her gaze again. She felt her stomach flip-flop as his lips parted.

_Hey, Carter_, he thought.

"Sam," he replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for the feedback. Jack and Sam are now finally going to try to talk.**

**Reviews keep me writing.**

* * *

Sam shrugged off her thin coat as Jack closed the front door of his house. "Let me take that," he said, reaching for the coat, and she handed it to him, watching him hang it on a hook in the hallway beside his battered leather jacket. He turned to face her and simply stared at her for several seconds, before raising one eyebrow.

"So," she said, a little timidly, offering him a shy smile. She was very conscious of how near he was, and of how his chest looked in the plain white t-shirt he wore.

"So," he replied, putting his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans.

"You… must be wondering why I'm here," she said, and he tilted his head in a gesture that meant neither yes nor no. She had prepared an opening line while driving over, but it had now completely vanished from her mind. _Just say something_, she thought.

"Any chance of some coffee?" she asked, lamely, and immediately cringed.

The side of Jack's mouth curled up in a small lopsided grin. "Sure," he replied, turning and walking towards his kitchen, "but just so you know, there are coffee places a lot nearer your house."

She sighed under her breath, grateful for the distraction and for him not making an issue of it. She followed him through to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. Jack was filling the coffee pot at the sink, and he glanced back over his shoulder at her.

"Don't have any to-go cups, Sam, so you might as well come in," he said, gesturing vaguely to the small dining table at one side of the room.

Her pulse quickened again. _That's the second time you've called me Sam in the last ten minutes_, she thought. She loved how her name sounded when he said it, and yet again she wanted to close the distance between them and reach for his hand - but nervousness kept her standing by the table, lightly bouncing on her feet.

The coffee machine was now burbling away, and Jack opened a cupboard to remove two mugs, placing them on the countertop. He took a deep breath, then turned to look at her.

Sam cleared her throat, and smiled tentatively. "I didn't mean to interrupt your stargazing," she said. "It was beautiful out there."

"Sure was," he said, meaningfully, his dark eyes boring into her. "And I like the sweater, by the way."

She felt her cheeks flush yet again, and wondered if he knew the effect he could have on her with just a word, or a look. _Or a touch_, she thought, remembering his hand on her back earlier in the day, and she was sure that her whole face must be bright pink by now. She managed to say "Thank you" in a small voice, looking down at the floor for a moment.

The coffee maker clicked off and the last of the steam escaped from the vent on the top. Jack paused for a few seconds, deep in thought, then turned his attention to the machine. He filled the two mugs with hot coffee, appreciating the rich and bitter aroma that filled the air, returned the carafe to its slot, and picked up the two mugs.

"Let's take these to the living room," he said, nodding towards the doorway. "Might as well be comfortable." He waited for her to go ahead of him, and they walked through to the large room at the front of his house. Jack put the mugs on the coffee table, and sat down in the middle of the couch. Sam took an armchair, a few feet away. She picked up her mug and swallowed a mouthful of coffee, noting that Jack was simply staring at his.

"I'm fine," he said suddenly, startling her. She looked over at him, but his eyes were still on the steaming mug in front of him. His voice was soft, and she thought he sounded a little sad. "You were gonna ask, for the second time today. And I'm fine."

"Oh," she replied. "I... I'm glad to hear that."

There was silence for a few seconds before she spoke again. "You disappeared at lunch. We were a little worried. _I_ was worried."

Now he did glance up at her, searching her face for something. After a moment, he gave a half-hearted shrug. "I finished the report, and we're on downtime. I drove to a diner, then came back here."

She nodded in understanding. "OK," she said, watching him focus his attention on his coffee mug again. He looked completely withdrawn. _You're not fine_, she thought. _You're anything but fine. And you're not going to make this easy, are you?_

"I went home early too," she added after a moment, just to keep the conversation going, but he didn't reply. She sighed deeply, and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she decided to try being more direct. "You've been different for the last few weeks. Quieter."

"I'm a man of few words," he said, automatically, and she clasped her hands in her lap patiently.

"Sometimes," she replied, "but you know what I mean. I just want to help, if I can. I meant what I said before lunch. You can talk to me."

_I can talk to you too damned much lately_, he thought, _and that's all I can do._ "I know," he said.

"So why don't you?" she asked, and he could see that she was worried about his answer.

He took a deep breath and blew it out loudly, absent-mindedly running a hand through his hair and messing it up even more.

"Because... I don't know. I just need a vacation, like I said," he said. "No big deal." _And if you actually buy that, you're an alien impostor_, he thought wearily.

"Then why did you touch me today?" she asked quietly, seeing a startled expression appear on his face.

"Uh...," he began, unsure how to proceed. Sam was looking at him intently, but not accusingly. "I'm sorry," he said at last, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I hope you don't mean that," she said calmly. "I just wanted to know why."

_Not taking no for an answer this time, huh_, he thought. She usually allowed him to back off when a conversation got a little too real, and he'd tried several times so far tonight. _But she knows something is different now_.

"Because I'm an old fool," he said wearily. "It was a moment of weakness."

She smiled. "You're not a fool, and you're not old," she said warmly. "But now we're getting somewhere."

Jack's shoulders sank a little, and he wasn't sure whether it was from sadness or fatigue. He felt like they were having at least two conversations simultaneously, and both were dangerous.

"Getting somewhere implies there's somewhere we can go," he muttered, and she heard it.

Sam had been reaching for her coffee cup, but her hand froze in mid air and then pulled back. _So there it is at last_, she thought, amazed he'd been the one to bring it up first. She was suddenly acutely aware of the room around her: the furniture, the layout, the moonlight coming through the windows competing with the yellowish glow from a few table-lamps. The smell of the place, which right now was partly rich coffee, and partly just the way that Jack smelled.

After all these years, and all the moments and the maybes, they were going to have this conversation _here_, in this room, tonight. She felt her stomach flip-flop again.

"I've been thinking about what you asked me today," she said suddenly.

Jack looked up at her again, momentarily puzzled by the change of topic.

She read his expression effortlessly. "Wondering if I made the right choices," she clarified, and he nodded slowly.

"And?" he asked eventually, in a low and turbulent tone that sent a shiver chasing up her spine.

Sam took another quick gulp of coffee, now wishing it was something stronger, and put the mug down. "And... I think I'm happy with most of my choices," she said, watching his face carefully.

Jack's heart dropped like a stone. _So that's it, then_, he thought. He felt his old barriers begin to solidify again, like armour made of ice, beginning to freeze the pain and replace it with numbness.

Sam watched the change. He had been withdrawn and contemplative before, but now she saw an instant of utter dejection cross his face before his expression became perfectly neutral. _Oh Jack,_ she thought, steeling herself to continue.

"But I regret something I wasn't allowed to choose," she said quietly, willing him to meet her eyes again. A moment later, he did, and she silently begged him to understand.

Jack looked into her vivid blue eyes and again felt the climbing ice start to shudder and crack. _You can't go on like this_, his mind said, but he ignored it. He wanted to speak, but he didn't trust his voice.

She was still watching his face, and his eyes looked almost completely black. She saw his vulnerability - really _saw_ it, for the first time - and suddenly everything seemed so tragically simple. _You shouldn't have to feel this way_, she thought. _It's not right._

She could see that he was still waiting for her to speak, and in that moment she made a decision. Her nervousness evaporated, and she stood up.

Jack watched her stand, walk around the coffee table, and sit down on the couch beside him. _What are you doing?_ he wondered, simultaneously dreading her next words but also wretchedly unable to avoid hoping. _Hope is what kills people_, a distant part of his mind whispered, and he knew it was as true as it was irrelevant.

She sat down close enough for her leg to brush against his, and they both briefly glanced down at the point of contact before their eyes met again. Slowly, and gently, Sam reached out and took his hand, pulling it across onto her knee and lacing her fingers between his, feeling a powerful wave of contentment at the contact.

Jack felt her fingers curl between his, and every remaining defence shattered into a million fragments. A tidal wave of emotion buffeted him, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes locked onto their linked hands. _Alright_, he managed to think. _Alright then. Whatever you're going to do, Sam, do it. If it's going to destroy me, then so be it._

Sam squeezed his hand gently, and his eyes slowly lifted up to meet hers. His jaw was tight, and she could feel the tension in his arm.

"I'm tired of waiting too," she said, her voice catching.

He recognised the truth of it on her face, and saw the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes. Whatever strength he had left to resist now evaporated, and for the first time he allowed himself to really feel what she meant to him. It struck him like a hammer-blow, and he closed his eyes, gripping her hand with a panicky tightness.

He heard the barest rustle of the couch as she leaned towards him, then felt a whisper of her sweet breath against his cheek for just a moment before her lips touched his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I read a lot of fanfic where these two finally get together, and the first thing they do is have the kind of flowery mutual declaration of undying love that George Lucas would drunkenly bash out on his typewriter. ****To me, this seemed a bit more realistic, particularly for **_**Sam Carter and Jack O'Neill**_**, for crying out loud.**

**They're going to have to deal with the repercussions sooner or later, but not quite yet. We can allow them an evening together after they've waited six years.**

**Reviews keep me writing.**

* * *

The first touch of Sam's lips had been gentle, as if she was seeking permission. It took Jack about a second to realise what was happening, then his hand instinctively came up to caress her cheek. Her mouth opened to him, she sighed softly, and then all conscious thought ceased.

She wasn't sure how many minutes had passed when his lips finally left hers, but she knew that she felt more alive than she could ever remember. Her heart was beating quickly and strongly in her chest, she was breathing rapidly, and her fingers were curled through the hair on the back of Jack's neck. She was somehow sitting in his lap now, though she didn't remember moving, and one of his hands was on the small of her back again, with the other laced through her hair, gently stroking the back of her head.

_Oh wow_, she thought, feeling a surge of deliriously happy laughter bubbling up inside her, which she suppressed only with extreme effort. His mouth was still only a couple of inches from hers, and she could feel his breath against her lips. _I could have been doing _that_ for the last few years?_ she thought, and again a giggle threatened to burst from her.

She suddenly felt his body start to shake, and her eyes flew open. Jack's eyes were still closed, but her moment of worry vanished as she saw a barely-contained grin appear on his face. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing her comically wide-eyed expression, and that was it. He snorted with suppressed laughter, and they both dissolved into hysterics.

It was several minutes later that they calmed down enough to take a few deep breaths and look at each other. She was still sitting in his lap, and they still clung to each other, though now both of their faces were streaked with tear-tracks from laughing. Sam saw that his eyes were shining, and she felt her heart soar. He looked happy for the first time in weeks, and without a frown he also looked about ten years younger.

"Jesus, Sam," he said softly, with traces of laughter still in his voice. "That was... wow." His hand left her hair and came forward, and he laid his fingertips against her cheek.

She smiled brilliantly, leaning into his touch. "Mmm," she murmured. "Wow is the word." Her eyes were half-closed now, and every muscle in her body was perfectly relaxed.

"Sam...?" he said, after a moment.

"Mm?" she replied, drawing a lopsided grin from him.

"What was with the giggles?" he asked. "Because I have no clue where that came from."

She leaned forward into him, letting her head come to rest on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. "We were just letting out about six years of tension," she said into his neck. "That was easily the best kiss I've ever had."

"Yeah," he said, feeling an absurd amount of male pride at her words. "Though I think I only got rid of about five and a half years' worth."

She buried her nose in his neck, and he felt rather than heard her laughter. He knew she was blushing. "Sidearm?" she asked weakly.

"I _swear_," he replied, and once again they both dissolved into laughter.

When they'd regained control again, he leaned back slightly and looked at her for a long moment, letting his hands fall to her waist. "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say," he said quietly.

"What do you want to say?" she asked, shyly, and saw him struggle not to smile.

"That you're beautiful," he replied, so earnestly that she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes again. "Really, Sam. I'm no good at this stuff, but..." he trailed off, willing her to understand, and she did.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a dazzling smile. "And you're not so bad at 'this stuff', you know." She slowly traced a line around his forehead and down his cheek, along his jaw to his lips with her finger, marvelling at suddenly being allowed to do things like this. "You are a _ridiculously_ good looking man, Jack O'Neill."

He barked a laugh at that, and she could see that he was delighted. His face softened again as a single crease appeared on his brow. "Really? This old face?" he asked quietly, and she could see that despite his gentle smile he really did have doubts about how she saw him. _You're adorable sometimes_, she thought.

She sighed through her own smile, then laid her palms gently against his cheeks, compelling him to pay close attention. "_This_ face," she said, kissing him on the nose, "is the one I see when I go to sleep, and the one I come into work early to see again after I wake up."

She blushed at her own words, feeling her stomach flip-flop yet again. She had dreamed of being able to be like this with him for so long, the sudden reality of it still stunned and thrilled her.

Jack swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and gave her a closed-mouthed smile that she seemed to understand perfectly. _I'm completely in love with you_, he thought, tightening his grip around her waist.

He lowered his lips to hers, and this time it was a tender, lingering kiss that spoke volumes about how he felt about her. When he broke contact a minute or so later and opened his eyes, he saw that she was silently crying, but the adoring smile she wore left him in no doubt that she was anything but sad.

_We're going to have to talk about this_, he thought. _But it can wait a while_.

He lifted a hand to her face and gently wiped a stray tear away with the callused pad of his thumb, and he was just about to speak when her stomach growled loudly.

"Hungry?" he said, smirking at her bashful expression, and she shrugged apologetically.

"Didn't really eat properly before coming here," she admitted, just realising how empty her stomach felt now that nervousness was no longer keeping her appetite at bay.

"I haven't eaten since the diner either," he said, running a hand through his hair. "We're kind of doing this backwards, but... dinner?"

"Please," she said, making no effort to move from his lap.

"Takeout?" he countered, raising an eyebrow, and she nodded with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: They're still avoiding talking about what this all means, but this time it's at least Daniel's fault. He has the worst timing in the galaxy.**

**Reviews keep me writing.**

* * *

Dinner had been an easy, lazy affair. They seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement that any talk of serious matters would wait until later, and for now they would simply enjoy being in each other's company. When the doorbell had rung 25 minutes after Jack phoned in their order, they were sitting close together on the couch, facing each other, and he was tracing circles on the back of her hand with this thumb.

After they had eaten, Sam had insisted on clearing away the plates and other debris. Jack had helped carry some of it through to the kitchen, and had then hovered near the door, just watching her potter around, loading the dishwasher and throwing out the empty cartons.

_This is what it would be like_, he thought, and couldn't suppress a smile. She happened to look up at that moment and read him like a book, raising one eyebrow in an expression that playfully said _Don't get too used to this, mister_.

When she had finished what she doing, Jack wandered over to the refrigerator and opened the door. "Beer?" he asked, and she nodded after a moment. He twisted both caps off, and had just handed her a bottle when the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by a shrill sound from the hallway.

"About time," Jack said wearily. "I was starting to feel insulted."

Sam grinned and briefly laid a hand on his chest before hurrying through to where her jacket hung, retrieving her cellphone from the inside pocket. She flipped it open and raised it to her ear as she wandered back through to the kitchen.

"Hi, Daniel," she said innocently.

"_Hey Sam,_" Daniel replied cheerfully, "_How's things?_"

"Oh everything's fine," she said sweetly, raising her eyebrows at Jack, who grinned. "What's up?"

Jack used both hands to mime a chattering gesture, and she smirked at him.

"_Nothing, really,_" Daniel replied. "_I was just wondering if you'd talked to Jack. He left pretty suddenly earlier. I tried to find you later but you'd gone home._"

She could hear the unspoken question in his voice, and she rolled her eyes, drawing an amused questioning glance from Jack.

"I just went home to take a long bath and unwind a bit," she said, watching Jack's face carefully. He grinned, tiling his head slightly to one side, and his gaze ran slowly down her body and then back up. Sam felt warmth chase through her, and narrowed her eyes at him. "And yes, I did manage to speak to _the Colonel_."

Jack gave an exaggerated grimace, and she smirked in triumph.

"_Oh? Did he say anything?"_ Daniel asked eagerly, and Sam mentally shook her head at how interested the younger man always was in gossip of any kind.

"He was just a little tired, and wanted to get out of the mountain as soon as he finished his report," she said diplomatically, and Jack nodded his approval.

"_Oh,_" Daniel replied, sounding disappointed. "_Don't you think he's been weird lately, though? I mean... just a little... weird, even for Jack._"

She sighed silently. Daniel was right, of course, but that wasn't a conversation she could really have right now. "Um..., well, I think he'd just been a little... run down lately," she said at last. "It's been a tough few weeks."

"_Yeah,"_ Daniel acknowledged. _"I guess so. As long as he's OK. And you're OK. You're OK, right?"_

She smiled. She loved Daniel like a younger brother, and he in turn was always fiercely protective of her. "I'm OK," she said warmly, "and thank you for checking up on me."

"_Good, and you're welcome,_" Daniel replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "_Well, have a good weekend, Sam. Maybe we can get together sometime before Tuesday. I'll talk to you soon. 'Night._"

"'Night," she said, smiling into the phone, then she hung up.

"He's a sweetheart, is our Danny," Jack said dryly. "Big heart." He was trying to sound sarcastic, but Sam could easily see the deep affection Jack felt for their friend.

"He looks up to you, you know," she said, and Jack smiled softly.

"He's like my kid brother," he said, and then she heard the barest waver in his voice. "He's a good man."

She closed the space between them and put her arms around his neck. "So are you," she said tenderly.

He looked at her for a long moment, and felt a powerful urge to tell her that he loved her. But it was too soon for that. _Is it? After six years?_

"Fifty bucks says he calls me before midnight," he said, and her laugh rang out like a silver bell on a clear day.

"No bet," she replied.

They carried their drinks back through to the living room, and settled back onto the couch, his arm around her shoulders.

"So... I guess we should-" Jack began, but was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of Queen's _We Will Rock You_ coming from the small end-table beside the couch.

Sighing deeply, he put his beer down and picked up his own cellphone, displaying the screen to Sam. _SPACE MONKEY_, it said. She shrieked with laughter at his choice of ringtone for the archaeologist.

"Fifty bucks" he mouthed, as he pressed a key to answer the call, raising the phone to his ear, his other arm still around Sam's shoulders. "Danny boy," he said.

"_Oh hey Jack"_ Daniel's voice said on the line, which Sam could easily hear from this distance. "_Just wondering how you're doing, and what you're up to?_"

"I'm making progress on this beer, and I'm planning to make progress on a few more," he replied, drawing an amused glance from Sam. "How about you?"

"_Not much,_" he said. "_There's a show on Discovery later about lemurs, though. I was thinking of watching that. You should check it out._"

Sam pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at Jack's expression of pain.

"Can't think of anything I'd rather do," Jack said in mock enthusiasm, lifting his hand from her shoulder to slowly trace a line from her earlobe down to the v-neck of her sweater. She shivered deliciously.

"_Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,_" Daniel replied, good-naturedly.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," Jack replied without hesitation, moving to caress her upper arm with his palm.

Daniel sighed, choosing not to play this game any further. "_So I heard you talked to Sam earlier._"

Her eyes flicked up to meet Jack's. He was smirking.

"Yeah," he replied, raising an eyebrow slightly. "She managed to get a hold of me a while ago."

Sam again clapped her hand over her mouth, and Jack grinned as he continued speaking into the phone.

"Kind of wish she'd caught me back at the base, actually," he said, and Sam rolled her eyes, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"_Yeah,_" Daniel replied, completely oblivious. "_She tried to find you after lunch, I think. Well, as long as everything's OK with you, and with... you two. You and Sam, I mean. It's been a little tense recently._"

"I know what you mean," Jack replied smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and she jabbed him in his side, making him yelp.

"_What was that?_" Daniel asked, concerned. "_Are you OK?"_

Jack narrowed his eyes at Sam, but couldn't suppress his grin. "Ah, I... spilled my damn beer. Reaching for the TV remote. No drama," he said into the phone.

Sam folded her arms and raised one exquisitely-shaped eyebrow at him, before very slowly letting her gaze wander down to his lips.

"Uh, I gotta go, Danny," Jack said after a moment, looking first into Sam's eyes, then down to her slightly parted lips, then back into her eyes again. "Got to take care of stuff here. Beer. Clean up, y'know."

"_OK, well have a good evening, Jack"_, Daniel said. _"I'll call you over the weekend._"

"Sure, you betcha," Jack replied distantly, barely aware of what he was saying anymore. He tore his gaze away from her for long enough to find the button on the phone to end the call, then tossed the device over his shoulder.

Sam had half-turned to face him, her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were a stormy dark blue.

She stretched luxuriously, feeling his eyes on her. "Take care of stuff here?" she asked in an exaggeratedly innocent tone.

A moment later, she found herself lying on her back across the couch, and Jack's lips were on hers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Another chapter, just in time for the weekend. Jack is an insecure guy behind all the bravado, but these two can work it out together.**

**If you have a moment to leave a review, I'd really appreciate it.**

* * *

It took every ounce of Sam's willpower to lift her lips from his, even though they were both breathing raggedly. She was now lying on top of him on the couch, with her knees straddling his hips, and her thin sweater riding up above her midriff. She could feel him pressing into her, and one of his hands was low on her back, under the waistband of her jeans, keeping their bodies in contact.

"Jack," she said breathlessly, and he made a sound very much like a growl as he kissed her again. She moaned into his mouth, and then felt his other hand tangle deeper in her hair.

"_Jack,_" she said again after a moment, more insistently, moving one hand to his chest, and at last he relaxed his head back onto the couch.

"I know," he said, sounding so petulant that she giggled again. "Not helping, Sam," he added, with humour evident in his voice.

"Sorry," she said, and he understood that she meant it in at least two different ways. She rested her forehead on his again for a moment, and then reluctantly pushed herself up to a sitting position, still straddling his lap, and she felt his hands move to her waist.

Jack remained lying on his back, looking up at her with twinkling eyes. She smiled softly at him, and he thought that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was mussed, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were full and red from kissing. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of contentment, desire, trust, and a strong emotion that he didn't dare think about too much yet.

_Damn_, he thought. _Even if she walked out right now, it was worth waiting six years._ A warm smile spread across his lips, mirroring her own.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, running her palm across his chest.

"This," he said solemnly, "is the best couch _ever_."

Her laughter rang out across the room, and she nodded her head in agreement. "Yes it is."

After a moment, she glanced down at her hands, now both lying flat on his chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.

"Sam, I know," he said gently. "We do need to talk."

She looked up at him, grateful and also apologetic. "I... you know that I want to keep doing this," she said quietly. "It's just important that we figure out what's happening, before we go too much further."

"You're right," he said, touched that she was worried about his reaction to her putting on the brakes. "But no regrets so far?"

"I could never regret kissing you, Jack," she said. "I've waited so long to be here with you like this. It's crazy that we waited so long. I don't even really know what we've been thinking all these years."

He reached up and stroked her cheek gently for a moment, nodding in silent agreement, then he rested his hands on her hips again. "Let me up," he said softly, and she shifted off him. He sat up and swung his legs off the couch and to the floor, reaching for his beer. Sam sat back down beside him, also taking a mouthful from her own bottle.

"So," Jack said, clearing his throat and contemplating the glass bottle in his hands. "Uh... I'm not totally sure what to say here. I mean, I'm glad we're doing this. That we did this, I mean. What we've... been doing. I hope we're going to keep doing it. This."

She smiled at his awkwardness, keeping silent because she knew he hadn't finished. He cleared his throat again, glancing briefly towards her. He saw her smile and seemed reassured, then again focused his attention on the beer bottle.

"This is... uh...," he began hesitantly, and then tailed off, subconsciously reaching behind his head to nervously mess up his own hair. He sighed, frustrated at his own inability to find the right words. "Hell, Sam, this is probably the best night of my life since Charlie was born, y'know."

_Oh god_, she thought, feeling tears instantly spring into her eyes. It was somehow so utterly Jack O'Neill. He was a private man at the best of times, and never more so than on the topic of his son. She expected it would take a long time before he would fully open up to her about Charlie, if he ever did. But now, without even really thinking about it, he had made this enormous statement - given her this compliment that was so _loaded_ with meaning - that she was certain her heart had skipped at least a couple of beats.

_It's all going to work out_, she realised. All the questions they still had to answer together would be answered. Whatever was going to happen would happen. But it would all work out. If he could say _that_ to her, here and now - if he could _feel_ that - then what else was there to worry about? Leave it to Jack O'Neill to resolve her doubts about his feelings for her _and_ his ability to let her in, with a single sentence.

He glanced around at her again, suddenly anxious. "Uh, I'm not sure that came out right, but I mean it. Don't be mad. I didn't mean to bring up that stuff. I just meant... I'm happy here. With you."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she saw him notice, and then he suddenly looked stricken. She found it impossible to imagine how she could ever love anyone more than she loved this man.

"Don't be upset, Sam," he pleaded, quickly putting down the beer bottle and laying a hand on her knee. The regret in his voice broke her heart, and her hand immediately covered his.

"Jack," she said, her voice watery with tears but also firm, "Listen to me."

She saw the concern in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before taking a deep breath and continuing. "You really have no idea what a wonderful man you are, do you?"

His expression changed to one of slight puzzlement, then quickly to a cautiously optimistic half-smile, and she didn't know whether she'd ever be able to stop crying. She took another shuddering breath, and looked him in the eyes again.

"You make me so happy, Jack," she said simply. "You made me happy before tonight, just getting to be with you every day, and now that I'm here with you like _this_..." Her voice cracked, and he reached up to wipe a tear away.

"So we're still good," he said. It wasn't quite a question, but she knew that a part of him was asking.

"We're still good," she replied, smiling through her tears. She lifted her hands to his face. "This is the best night I can remember."

"Sam?" he said.

"Yes?" she replied, smiling softly.

"Thanks for making the first move." He examined her face carefully, and saw that she understood. "I think it was always gonna be up to you."

"I know," she replied, squeezing his hand again.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both considering what to say next. Jack's mind was circling around the fact that she'd been the one to finally break the status quo. _It really was always going to be her, because she has the most to lose_, he thought. There was her career to be considered, and his age. Her chance of a family. Her reputation.

He sighed, drawing a glance from her, and he knew she had some idea of what he was thinking. _The least I can do is put my cards on the table_, he realised.

"Sam, if we do this," he began, feeling her hand abruptly tighten around his - "and we _are_ doing this," he smiled, seeing her relax again - "then I hope you know I'm in it for the long haul. I've been dancing around this for too long, and I'm too damned old to beat around the bush. If this keeps... working out... for both of us, then I'll be talking to Hammond."

He glanced at her, and saw only acceptance and that strong emotion again, so he continued.

"I can take things slow, but I'm not gonna pretend about what I want. I want us to... wake up together. Someday I want to put a ring on your finger. I want to paint a kitchen that's ours. I want one of those little cups with two toothbrushes. I just want to be clear on that."

Her eyes were shining. She didn't trust her voice, so she simply turned fully into him, her arms going around his neck. "That's exactly what I want too, Jack," she said into his neck. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._

"Listen, Sam," he said quietly just above her shoulder, stroking her hair rhythmically, "Are you really sure about this? I know I keep asking. But I'm not exactly getting any younger here, my knees are half shot, and I've got my fair share of baggage-"

She loosened her embrace only slightly, so she could look at him. His words had tailed off when she moved, and he was about to continue when she kissed him - just once, gently. "Just you, Jack. It's always been you," she said, and he smiled.

"OK," he replied simply. "Back atcha."

Jack settled back into the couch with Sam beside him, and she swung her legs up and across his, sitting sideways. She held one of his hands in both of hers, seemingly fascinated with it. They enjoyed several minutes of comfortable silence before she spoke again.

"What are we going to do about work?" she asked, in a small voice.

"I think it's better if we keep going," he replied. "Otherwise they'd get suspicious pretty fast."

She swatted his captive hand, and gave him a look that was meant to be exasperation but was much closer to amusement. "You know what I mean," she said.

He sighed. "Yeah, I do." He was silent for a few moments, and when he spoke it again it was with a determination she hadn't heard in a while. "They owe us, Sam. And they need us - both of us. We've given everything for this planet."

She nodded. He was right. The regulations weren't the ultimate answer to every question about their lives, even if it had seemed that way before.

"There's no way it's wrong for you and I to be together," he said, full of conviction, and she gave him one of her rarest smiles.

"So what do we do?" she asked, after another moment. "Do we talk to General Hammond? Can he talk to the Joint Chiefs, or the President?"

Jack tilted his head to one side. "Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "He's got to have been expecting it. Everyone on the damn base wonders about us. And if the answer is no, I'll retire. To hell with them. If they want me back, I'll be a civilian."

She watched his face as he spoke, and then dropped her gaze to his large hand held between her two smaller, much more slender ones. "You'd actually do it?" she asked, already knowing the answer, and he nodded.

"Besides," he continued, "it's not like we don't have some influence. I happen to know a little gray guy. Supreme Commander of a big honkin' fleet of alien spaceships. They even named one after me. Which you blew up. Since we're sharing here, I'm still sore about that."

She laughed, and he grinned at how it made her eyes sparkle. "Sorry," she said.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. "I didn't really like the colour anyway," he quipped. "I'm gonna ask Thor to make the next one hot-rod red."

"Good choice," she replied, using her thumb to trace the line of each of his fingers. "So we're doing this."

"Finally," he said, using his free hand to tilt her chin up towards him and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.

"What about Daniel and Teal'c?" she asked, licking her lips without realising it and seeing his pupils dilate in response.

"I'm really only into blondes," he replied, closing the short distance between them once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in updating. A brief chapter this time, with more to come.**

**Reviews are my motivation to keep writing.**

* * *

Soft jazz played through the small speakers on a bookshelf across the room, but neither Jack nor Sam were paying much attention to the music. They sat side by side on the couch, his arm across her shoulders, and her head resting on his chest.

Sam glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was a little after 11PM. She stifled a yawn, and felt a pang of regret at what she was about to say, and then sighed.

Jack heard her, and tightened his arm around her, dropping a light kiss on her forehead. _This is the part where you say you should probably be going_, he thought.

"It's getting late," she said, in a small voice.

"Mm," he replied. "Not a school night though."

She smiled. He was right, but it had been an exhausting day. "Even so. I... should probably be going."

Now it was Jack's turn to sigh. He turned his head to look at her, and she met his gaze. "Do you want to go?" he asked, and she looked down at his chest.

"Jack..." she said, and he knew that she was searching for the right words. "Of course I don't _want_ to, but... it's still day one." She looked up at him, imploring him to understand.

He smiled at her; a warm and genuine smile. "I know," he replied, "and I don't want to screw this up. I've wanted to make love to you for six years, Sam, but only when it's right."

She blushed deeply, feeling the desire rise within her. His simple honesty, as usual, took all the awkwardness away.

"But I don't want you to go either," he added, quietly, his face becoming serious. "If you think it's best, that's OK - I promise. I'm just saying... you could stay. We could just sleep. Together. Then wake up. Together."

His eyes had that liquid quality again, and she could see that he desperately wanted her to stay, and that his promise was genuine. She could walk away, and they would pick this right up tomorrow morning. But she could also stay, and it wouldn't go any further than she wanted it to.

"I want you to be here in the morning," he said earnestly, and the emotion behind the statement seemed to flow through her.

She looked into his eyes for a long moment. "I'd like that," she said at last, and her heart melted all over again at the expression of relief on his face.

Jack felt a surge of contentment fill his chest. This amazing woman who had fought at his side on so many worlds, who had saved this planet and others, who had the most brilliant mind he'd ever known - she wanted to stay. He could barely believe his luck. He felt his own self-doubt rising up, and pushed it away. _She wants to be here, now,_ he thought. _Let tomorrow take care of itself_.

She had been watching him carefully, and she saw the emotions playing across his face. She loved that she was one of the only people who could read him in that way.

"I've got a bag in the car," she said, and he nodded. It was standard practice to keep a simple overnight kit ready to go. They each had several: at home, on base, and in their vehicles.

"I'll go get it," he said, and saw her nod gratefully. "Give me a sec." He pulled on his shoes, taking her car keys from her jacket in the hallway, and went out to the Volvo. He found her overnight bag in the trunk easily, then relocked the car and went back inside.

"Guess I should lock up for the night," he said, and she smiled at him, taking the bag but not moving from the hallway. Jack locked the front door and flipped the switch to turn off the living room lights. He knew that she knew the way to his bedroom, but he also knew that she was a little nervous. "It's this way," he said kindly, again putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her through the house.

They entered the bedroom and Jack pointed to a door on the far wall. "There's another bathroom through there," he said. "Ladies first."

"Thanks," she said shyly, still clutching her overnight bag, and then disappeared into the bathroom.

When she stepped out again five minutes later, she was wearing a faded grey cotton tank top and flannel pyjama trousers. Jack was sitting on one side of the bed, wearing an Air Force t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, idly flipping through an old issue of Astronomy magazine, which he closed and put on the nightstand when he saw her.

"This side's mine," he said, "and just a heads up: I hog the blankets."

She laughed, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "And I have _very_ cold feet," she said, pointedly. Jack only grinned, then went through to the en suite.

When he returned, she was sitting up in bed, with the duvet over her legs. There was a flush on her cheeks and she was smiling widely.

"Everything OK?" he asked, returning the smile, and she nodded.

"Just can't really believe this," she said, her voice a little higher than usual, and Jack's smile became a lopsided grin.

"Yeah," he replied. "I know what you mean." He walked around the bed to his side, lifted back the covers and got in, lying down on his back. Sam slid down into the same position, turning her head to look at him.

"You want to read or anything, or should I...?" he began, slightly awkwardly, and she shook her head. Jack nodded and reached over to his nightstand to flip out the lamp, and the room was plunged into semi-darkness, though after a moment the brightness of the moonlight through the thin curtains made everything visible.

Sam inhaled deeply, completely surrounded by the scent of Jack O'Neill. _I'm in his bed_, she thought, having to bite back a laugh of utter elation. She sighed deeply in contentment, and couldn't manage to suppress a shiver of delight that chased through her. Jack immediately rolled towards her.

"Sam?" he said.

"Mm?" she replied.

"C'mere."

She smiled in the darkness and turned her body towards him, folding a leg over his knee as she felt his arm slide behind her head and across her shoulders. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her fully against him, and her head found its natural place in the joint of his neck.

Jack tilted his head forward to briefly lower his lips to hers, then relaxed back against the pillow, drawing the covers up around her shoulders.

"G'night, Sam," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Night, Jack," she replied, tightening her arm across his chest, and pressing her nose into his t-shirt. She felt utterly at peace.

She heard him take a deep, satisfied breath, and her head moved up and then back down with his chest. His strong heartbeat was in her ear, she could still taste his kiss, and his large hands held her protectively.

_I love you_, she thought, and closed her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam woke up gradually, and her first conscious feeling was of utter safety. She was warm and completely relaxed, and some wonderful realisation danced on the edge of her memory, not quite accessible yet.

Awareness of her body returned ever so slowly, and as she inhaled, her lungs were filled with a scent she would recognise anywhere.

_Jack_, she thought, her mind still foggy with the lingering effects of a sound night's sleep. Then her pillow expanded beneath her, her eyes blinked open, and her memory awoke.

She was in almost the same position as when she'd fallen asleep, curled into him. Her arm was hooked loosely around his chest, and her face was still buried in his neck. His steady breathing whispered through her hair, and his arms encircled her waist.

_I want to wake up like this every day_, she thought, and couldn't suppress a shiver of giddy excitement at this new stage of their relationship.

Jack twitched in his sleep, then exhaled loudly, his unconscious mind detecting the movement and beginning to wake.

She moved her hand from his waist to gently stroke his chest, easing him back into consciousness. It wasn't wise to startle a sleeping Jack O'Neill, and she shushed him as his brow furrowed, eyes still tightly shut.

After another moment, his eyes opened and blinked several times, eventually focusing on her. He stared at her without any expression for several seconds, then abruptly grinned widely.

"Hi," he said, and she returned the grin.

"Morning," she replied coyly. "What are you so pleased about?"

"Had a great dream," he mumbled sleepily. "Hot blonde in my bed."

"Oh _really_?" she replied, in a tone of mock jealousy, which only widened his grin.

"Yup. Smart too. Beautiful. Tough. No idea what she was doing with an old soldier like me, but I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth."

She smiled, knowing she was blushing. "And what happened?" she asked, feeling daring.

"I woke up and she was still here," he replied, his voice suddenly tender, and tears immediately stung her eyes.

_Oh God, Jack_, she thought, feeling the first tear trace down her cheek. _If you're going to be sweet too, I'm never going to stop crying._

She reached up and kissed him, and he grinned. "So," he said, glancing towards the window and seeing that it had been light for quite some time, "I guess we slept in."

"Mmm," she replied, peering over at the alarm clock on his nightstand and seeing that it was almost 09:00 already. "I haven't slept this late in ages."

"Must be the company," he replied, and she smiled.

They lay there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the moment, before Jack spoke again.

"Breakfast?"

"Sounds good," she said, rolling onto her back and stretching like a cat, instantly missing the warmth of his chest. After a moment she noticed that Jack hadn't moved, and was watching her with his dark eyes. The expression on his face was serious.

_I love you_, he thought. _I'm going to tell you that soon._ _Sooner than I probably should._

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling her stomach twist, and she relieved when he gave a small smile.

"Not a thing," he said quietly. "I really... I'm happy, Sam. In a big way. First time in a long time." He paused, searching for the right words. "Just... thanks. For making me feel like this."

"I'm happy too, Jack," she said, rolling back over to gently stroke his face, which was rough with stubble. "Everything's OK. I'm here."

_But for how long?_ he wondered, pushing the thought away almost as soon as it formed.

She saw a shadow pass across his eyes, and knew that he still couldn't quite believe how their relationship had changed. _You're so confident as Colonel O'Neill, but Jack is a different man_, she realised. He was a man who kept barriers between himself and others, because inwardly he suffered greatly from self-doubt.

On missions, Colonel O'Neill was the picture of unflappable confidence, making wisecracks in the face of certain death, and being absolutely convinced they'd always get out alive. But as Jack, he hid his emotions. He doubted himself, and he doubted how others felt about him. She knew that it would take quite some time before he would fully accept the idea that she was his.

_Well I'll just have to work on convincing you_, she thought, smiling widely at him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, softly but earnestly. "Well, I'm going to the bathroom. Then we're having breakfast. And I really need to drop by my place to do some laundry. But I'm not going to change my mind about _this_." She reached for his hand and placed it against her own cheek for a moment, then turned her head to kiss his palm.

"It's different now," he said, and she frowned slightly in confusion. "Now we're... uh, together?" he continued, asking permission to use the word.

She nodded, smiling reassuringly. "We're together," she said. "What else is different?"

Jack looked at her for a long moment, clearly weighing up what he was going to say. Eventually he decided to just blurt it out, as usual.

"I can't go back to the way it was before," he said. "I mean, if we _have_ to - if we're gonna have to wait, then I guess... I'll just have to live with it. But being with you like this, Sam... we've waited so long. I don't want to go back."

She nodded several times, still smiling at him. She felt the same way herself. Now that they'd allowed themselves to experience what it was like to be together freely, it was gut-wrenching to imagine going back to how things were before.

"I'm not giving you up," she replied. "We'll find another way, together. I promise."

He looked at her for several further seconds, and then nodded, before smiling at last. The tension left his shoulders, and he pulled her against him once more. They held each other for a few minutes, then Jack gently prodded her in the side.

"OK, breakfast time now," he said.

"You've decided, huh?" she replied, grinning up at him.

"Definitely." He was smiling warmly at her, taking in her sleep-mussed hair, her bright eyes, and the amazing fact that she was here in his bed.

"Suits me," she said, lifting herself off his body once again and turning around to sit up on the edge of the bed, stretching.

"You go ahead," Jack said, sitting up and gesturing vaguely towards the en suite. "I'll go get stuff started."

Sam leaned over to briefly kiss him, then disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

They ate breakfast together mostly in companionable silence, each occasionally reaching out to clasp the other's hand, or just smiling bashfully. Once the meal was over, Jack cleared his throat.

"So...," he began, in an exaggeratedly casual tone, immediately prompting a smirk from Sam. "Up to much today?"

Her smirk became a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. "Nothing much. Doing laundry, like I said. Then maybe lunch out somewhere. I hear there's a new cafe on the other side of the park near my place."

"Hmm," Jack said. "You often go out to lunch alone? Or is there somebody I should know about?"

Sam rolled her eyes indulgently, and saw him smirk. "Janet mentioned she was going to call me this morning, actually. Just to catch up a bit. She has today off too. I was thinking yesterday about asking her to lunch."

"Ah," Jack said, not allowing his slight disappointment to show on his face. "Sounds nice."

Sam let him stew for a moment before continuing, with a twinkle in her eye. "That's what I was thinking _yesterday_," she said teasingly. "Today, I might want to have lunch with someone else."

"Sweet," Jack said, grinning boyishly for a moment before a thought occurred to him. "Uh, so when Janet calls..."

Sam nodded, knowing where this was going.

"... what are you going to, y'know, tell her? If anything," Jack finished carefully.

Sam shrugged. "What do you think I should do?"

Jack looked down at his hands, considering the question carefully, and choosing his next words. After several seconds, he spoke.

"She's your best friend, right?"

Sam nodded.

"And you trust her. I trust her too. She'd... keep things to herself until we were ready, if you asked her to. Wouldn't she?"

Sam nodded again, with a small smile.

"Yeah," Jack concluded. "So I guess - if _you_ wanted to, I mean; only if you wanted to - you could kind of, tell her. That'd be cool with me. Not that it's up to me."

She laughed out loud at how incredibly cautious and goofily considerate he was being. _I had no idea you could be so damned adorable. Daniel would have a fit if he could hear you right now_.

"Well, thanks," she said earnestly. "I'd like to tell Janet. And I kind of get the feeling you want me to tell her anyway."

Jack tilted his head to one side and half-shrugged - the expression said _Kinda, yep_ - and Sam laughed again.

"Makes it sort of official," he said bashfully. "Unofficially, I mean. Unofficially official. Oh for cryin' out loud, you know what I mean."

Sam got up and walked around to him, motioning Jack to move his chair out from underneath the table, and then sat down sideways across his lap, her arms going around his neck.

"I do know what you mean," she said with amusement and affection in her voice. "And by the way: insecure Jack is _cute_."

He snorted an embarrassed laugh, putting his hands on her waist. "If you _ever_ tell Daniel-" be began, but his words were abruptly cut off when her lips pressed against his.

* * *

Sam had been home for only 45 minutes, and she was already giddy with a mixture of missing him, being overwhelmed at everything that had changed in the last 24 hours, and excitement about talking to Janet.

"Hurry up and call already!" she said to her empty kitchen, then she giggled at herself.

_I feel a little out of control_, she thought. _And it's amazing._

The laundry was on, and she had already changed and fixed her hair. She made herself a cup of tea, and had just finishing pouring it when her cellphone rang. She fished it out of her jeans pocket: the caller ID said _Janet_.

Sam felt her heart speed up as she took a deep breath, flipped the phone open and raised it to her ear.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: This was a fun scene to write. I have no idea if it rings true or not, since I've never taken part in "girl talk" (I'm a guy), but hopefully it'll at least be fun to read too. Janet is definitely best-friend material.**

**Reviews mean a lot to me. I'd appreciate your thoughts.**

* * *

"Hey Janet," Sam answered, holding her phone in one hand and the cup of tea in the other. She shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, standing beside her kitchen table.

"_Hi Sam_," Janet replied. "_Enjoying your long weekend so far_?"

"Yup!" Sam replied too quickly, unable to stifle a giggle.

"_Oh?_" her friend replied, clearly surprised. Janet knew that Sam often had to be physically escorted from the mountain to stop her working, and was usually bored during downtime. "_What have you been up to?_"

"Not on the phone," Sam replied, and Janet could hear the smile in her voice. "Can you come over? Even just for an hour. I'm going out later, but not for an hour or two."

"_I'll be there in ten,_" Janet replied, mystified, and hung up.

* * *

Janet was as good as her word, and was sitting on the couch in Sam's living room with a cup of tea in her hands less than fifteen minutes later. Sam occupied the other half of the couch, and both women were turned to face each other.

The petite doctor raised a slender eyebrow and looked at Sam patiently, and Janet was intrigued to see her friend blush.

"OK, now you've _got_ to tell me what's going on," Janet said, and Sam grinned.

"Promise me you'll keep this between us," Sam replied. "I mean it. No-one else: not even Cassie. Definitely not Daniel, or anyone at work."

Janet sighed. "It's not like Daniel and I really chat very often, much as I'd like it if we did. Of course, I promise. Now tell me."

Sam took a deep breath, and nodded. "Alright. Well, last night I... went out."

Janet nodded slowly.

"And I got home about, uh, an hour ago."

Janet's eyebrows shot up. "May I ask where you slept?"

Sam blushed again, and Janet laughed.

"Oh my," Janet said. "Well, good for you. I've been telling you for a long time that you needed to get... a life."

Both women giggled, and Sam tried to look indignant. "I'll have you know that I did _not_ sleep with him! Well, I slept _with_ him. But we didn't actually... you know."

"The plot thickens," Janet replied. "That sounds kind of adorable, actually."

Sam smiled gratefully. "It really was. It was wonderful. We just didn't want to rush things."

"I can understand that," Janet replied, returning the smile. "So are you going to see him again?"

Sam blushed slightly again. "We're having lunch today."

"Wow," Janet replied, laughing again. "You really must like this guy!"

Sam sighed, but this time it was somehow both wistful and contented. "Way more than 'like', Jan. It's a little scary, but in the good way."

Janet's expression softened, and she studied her friend's face in wonder. "You... mean you have... stronger feelings for him, already?"

Sam nodded, and Janet could see the beginning of unshed tears in her eyes. "I love him," Sam replied quietly, and then she smiled as a few tears escaped and ran quickly down her cheeks. "I love him _so much_."

"Oh honey," Janet said, reaching across to put her hand on top of Sam's. "That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you." She was worried about Sam talking about love so soon, but she couldn't deny how glad and relieved she was to hear that her friend had these kind of feelings for someone.

Janet patted Sam's hand for a few moments, smiling at her before speaking again. "Have you told him that you love him?"

"Oh god no, not yet," Sam replied, looking shocked, and Janet laughed.

"OK, good! Because he might freak out a little."

Sam's smile became bashful, and she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I actually think he'd say it back."

Janet's eyebrows shot up. "Holy Hannah!" she said, and both women giggled again at Jacob's favourite exclamation. After a minute, Janet reached for her tea and slowly took a sip before putting it back down.

"Janet, just ask me about him already," Sam said. Janet put on an exaggeratedly innocent expression, but couldn't suppress a grin.

"Well you haven't even told me where you met him, or what he does for a living, or where he lives. Or what he looks like! You haven't even told me his _name_! But far be it from your _best friend_ to pry," Janet said teasingly, and Sam laughed.

"I went to his place last night," Sam said. "We talked... about how we felt about each other. And I kissed him, and he kissed me back. Then later we kissed a lot more. Oh Janet, he is such an _amazing_ kisser."

"Now you're just making me jealous," Janet replied, sighing and thinking of Daniel. "And you made the first move! Chalk one up for the girls."

Sam flushed yet again as they both laughed, then took a gulp of tea to steady her nerves. She returned the cup to the coffee table, cleared her throat and looked Janet in the eye.

"His name is Jonathan," she said carefully. Janet smiled, without any hint of recognition. _Hold onto your hat, Janet,_ Sam thought, steeling herself before continuing. "But everyone calls him... Jack."

Janet blinked.

Sam blushed bright red.

Janet blinked again, then her mouth fell open.

Sam briefly glanced down at her own clasped hands, then met Janet's eyes again.

Janet pointed at Sam. "They call him... Jack," Janet said, to no-one in particular.

Sam nodded cautiously.

A long moment of silence passed as the wheels turned in Janet's head. Her gaze was fixed on Sam's face now, reading her expression.

"Sam," Janet said carefully, her eyes wide and the beginnings of an awed grin curling the corners of her mouth upwards, "what's his last name?"

Sam's cheeks were still blazing and she couldn't stop a giggle bursting out of her as she looked down at her own hands again, suddenly smiling so widely she was surprised her cheeks didn't hurt. "It's... O'Neill," she said simply.

"Oh. My. GOD!" Janet shrieked, launching herself towards Sam and embracing her friend. "Finally!" she said, tears now freely rolling down her own cheeks too. "Finally, finally, FINALLY! Oh god I'm gonna just explode. I am _so_, so happy for you!"

They clung to each other, neither woman sure whether they were laughing or crying, or both. _No more big needles for O'Neill_, Janet thought randomly, then she shook with hysterical laughter.

They pulled apart after a long minute, both wiping tears from their cheeks. Sam fetched a box of tissues from a small side-table near the TV, and offered one to Janet, who gratefully accepted.

"We must look like mad women," Janet said, and that set them off again for another few moments. When they had calmed down sufficiently, with the help of tea, Janet sighed deeply, a broad smile on her face that rivalled Sam's own.

"This is amazing, Sam," she said. "Just amazing. My god. After all these years. You two are so lucky. And you're also... well."

"Idiots?" Sam suggested, grinning.

"Something like that," Janet said, slightly guiltily. "But better late than never, I always say." She smiled warmly, again reaching out to pat Sam's hand. "Did I tell you how happy I am for you? I feel like I'm gonna burst here."

"Once or twice," Sam replied, grinning. "And I know you are, and I love you for it. I've been dying to talk to you all morning."

"And _I_ can't even tell anybody!" Janet threw her arms up in mock outrage.

"Nope," Sam replied. "Definitely not yet. We need to figure out how to tell people, and when. It's complicated."

Janet inclined her head sympathetically. "I know. I guess he'll want to talk to Hammond?"

Sam nodded. "I think so. We're figuring it out. We're just trying to enjoy this. It's so new, but it's so _right_. I already feel like we've been together forever, but also like I'm on a first date. It's crazy. But so wonderful."

Janet smiled, almost able to feel the butterflies in her own stomach. _I really need to do something about that archaeologist_, she thought. "Well, my lips are sealed, I promise."

"Thank you," Sam said warmly, and then both women sighed, lost in thought for a few moments before Janet spoke again.

"So," she said, rubbing her palms together eagerly, "talking of lips, tell me more about that _amazing_ kiss..."


End file.
